


La Morte du Lincoln

by leighlou247



Series: Henry in History [1]
Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Gen, Henry in History
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-08-31 20:56:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8593390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighlou247/pseuds/leighlou247
Summary: If only he hadn't bought that ticket to "My American Cousin"...





	

It was a relatively nice night. Henry had reserved seats early for a showing of Our American Cousin at Ford’s theater, unknowing that the President of the United States himself would be there with his wife. He didn't even pay attention to the booth until some people near him started whispering and pointing towards the booth. Henry looked up, seeing Abraham and Mary Todd sitting in the booth, chatting animatedly. He had a nervous feeling, but he didn't think anything of it.

  
The show was close to beginning, and the crowd was starting to hush, when suddenly, a gunshot rang through the quiet air, followed by a horrid shriek. Henry felt blood rain on his face, and he glanced up just in time to see the assassin just in time to see someone jump from the booth to the stage. Henry winced. That had to hurt. Henry stood up and scooted over panicked people to the isle where he began to run to the stairs that led to the booth. He was met by people blocking the way.

  
“I'm a doctor! Let me through!” He shouted, trying to push through people with his doctor’s bag. Eventually they got out of the way and he ran up the stairs. The sight he saw was dreadful. The President, with a blank face and a large hole in his head, blood trickling out of it while his wife wept in a nearby man’s arms. When he entered, all eyes were turned upon him. Henry lifted his bag up. “I can help. I'm a doctor.”

  
A few minutes later, they had placed Mr. Lincoln on a nice bed, and a few more doctors showed up. They worked for hours, but finally, they declared him dead. Mary Todd already accepted it, Henry figured out, a few hours before the doctors declared him dead.

  
“Doctor Morgan, thank you for all of your help,” she told him later.

  
“We didn't save him though,” Henry argued calmly, confused as to why the widow was thanking him.

  
“I know my husband died a happy man. I just pray that the killer gets caught,” she said, sorrow in her eyes.

  
“Do you know who it was?” Henry asked.

  
“One of the actors. John Wilkes Booth. Some officers went after him, but I don't know if they can catch him.”

  
“Mrs. Lincoln, I will find this man myself.”

  
“Thank you, Doctor Morgan, but are you sure?”

  
“I help the police sometimes, they may let me help.”

  
“Thank you, Doctor Morgan,” Mary said, giving a small half smile.

Henry gave her a small, yet duty-filled nod before taking his bag and running to catch up with the police.

  
On horse, he galloped as fast as he could to the police, following directions from passerby. He was just about to give up three days later, go back to Virginia. But he took a day to explore the town he was in, and he discovered a shack. Henry, curious, decided to open the door, and he was met with the barrel of a gun. Henry threw his hands in the air before he was grabbed by Booth and dragged inside.

  
“Who are you? Are you the police?” Booth asked him quietly, the gun still trained on his face.

  
“I'm a doctor. I have no affiliation with the police. Let me fix your leg. It looks pretty bad,” Henry said, to throw suspicion off of him. Booth put the gun down and limped to a bale of hay to sit on.

  
“Why are you helping me? Do you know who I am? I'm sure my face is posted everywhere in the United States by now. I killed Lincoln.”

  
Henry kept his face neutral, getting the leg ready to put back in place. “I was there. Get ready.”  
Booth nodded, and Henry jerked his leg where it was supposed to be, and Booth let out a huge cry of pain. Henry stood up and brushed the dust off of himself.

  
“What's your name, Doctor?” Booth asked. “Since you already know mine.”

  
“Henry. Let me put a makeshift brace on it,” Henry started, grabbing a plank and some twine lying around, but when he looked over, Booth was gone.

  
“Nice to meet you, Henry. Shame I am going to have to kill you too.”

  
“Go ahead!” Henry spat at the other. “I'll just wake up naked in the Hudson River!”

  
“What?”

  
“I am immortal. You cannot kill me.”

  
“Then I guess knocking you out will have to do,” Booth said. Henry wasn't sure if Booth was being sarcastic or not, but before he could determine which he meant, Booth popped up behind him, whacking Henry with the butt of his gun and knocking him out.  
Henry woke up tied to a chair with a knot on his head. He winced, opening his eyes and looking around. Henry heard a shuffle behind him, probably Booth preparing for something.

  
“Doctor. You're awake,” Booth said, limping up to him and leaning in real close. Henry felt Booth’s breath on the back of his neck, and he got goosebumps. His breath smelled awful and he smelled like he hadn't bathed in weeks.

  
“How long was I out?” Henry asked.

  
“That doesn't matter. All that matters now is that I'm about to be surrounded. I am currently preparing to kill myself, and I will kill you too.”

  
“How are you planning to kill us?” Henry asked, praying that it was something quick like a gun or a knife.

  
“I'm sending us to hell through fire.” Henry saw Booth set down his gun on a nearby table and get out a matchbook. “They're almost here. I don't plan on being arrested or hanged.”

  
“There's no dignity in killing yourself either,” Henry pointed out.

  
“I will be killed,” Booth insisted.  
Henry scrunched his face in confusion. “By whom?”

  
“I don't know. I killed the President, there is bound to be someone upset enough to kill me.”

  
By then, Henry could hear a stampede of police horses coming closer. Booth lit the match. “Time for death.” He threw the match down on the hay and came closer to Henry as the flames consumed the dry hay.

  
“Let me out!” Henry shouted.

  
“Oh I will, once the flames reach the door,” he said as the flames grew more intense and crawled towards the door. Once the door itself had ignited, Booth untied Henry's restraints, and the first thing Henry did was kick Booth’s leg, re-breaking it. Once Booth was on the floor writhing in pain, Henry grabbed his gun quickly and shot him through the heart, then, in turn, Henry quickly shot himself before the police would know he was there.

  
He woke up where he always woke up: naked in New York, another story to tell his children. Once he had children.


End file.
